The Fight for Ferelden
by Jelliceles
Summary: The Fifth Blight threatens to ravage the land, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. The only hope Ferelden has is to unite its people from all walks of life to fight the Darkspawn and secure a life worth living. But negotiation is not a job for one person. It will require an army. Or at least a few Grey Wardens... A re-telling of DA:O, with all seven origins included.
1. Chapter 1

It was a common fantasy among those in the Circle of Magi to be free from their stone prison. Nora Amell shared that fantasy, often dozing with dreams of running through golden fields of barley, or rolling through a patch of the spring's pastel flowers. It was, and would only be, a matter of imagination. After all, the only resources from which she could assume how the waters rippled or how the clouds condensed were from paintings and tomes. Her world was created from something first seen through a stranger's eyes. It had always been second-hand.

There were rare occasions when a mage or initiate might leave the tower, but none of them had ever been present in her life. A funeral, or business with the Chantry, or perhaps a conscription into war. Some mages were even known to leave with Templar overseers during the holidays, though assumptions on how that was accomplished ran wild and remained uncertain. With no family, no obligations outside of the Circle, and no higher rank that would come with duties, Nora was bound to the tower until fate saw it fit to release her into the world.

Which was about five hours ago.

She had been summoned by her betters, dragged from the library by two of the Templar guards without a word. It may as well have been an execution, as sudden and unprecedented as it was. When she saw both the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander in the same room, however, her mind wandered past the possibility of this being a death sentence. Another man was there, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, broad in stature and square-faced. He was armed and armored, a well-made sword and shield held securely on his back. She was quite sure she had never seen him in the halls of the tower. He introduced himself as Theleon, a Grey Warden of Ferelden traveling the country to look for recruits. Nora had come recommended for conscription by Irving himself, which was a bit of a shock to the newly appointed mage.

The First Enchanter remarked many times about the great potential he saw in her. In his eyes, there were few so dedicated to knowledge and learning their craft as she was. Perhaps that was the biggest problem Nora faced, that after all her studies she was still learning. Her understanding of manipulating the arcane and one's spirit far surpassed a majority of her peers'. Her weakness lied in the application and execution of her magic. Her Harrowing was proof of that.

It had taken her much longer than most to complete her trials, clashing against the forces of the Fade until the very last second. Her willpower had been pushed to its limit, and it was only by an act of mercy from a benevolent spirit that she was able to overcome these obstacles. When she awoke, it was clear that the Templars considered this a failure. Nora remembered feeling the cold, steel blade pressed against her neck as her eyelids fluttered open. Had the First Enchanter not pried the Templar's sword away himself, she would have been slain on the spot. The stress alone left her bed-rest for a few days.

So why was a mage who barely passed her initiation recommended as a candidate for the Grey Wardens?

She didn't have time to ask. They had barely exchanged pleasantries before she was told to pack for several days of travel. At first, she resisted. Not for the sake of being difficult, but only because it happened so fast. She had read plenty of historical accounts of the Grey Wardens and knew their ways, their methods and their practices. To be considered as a candidate for recruitment, however, was more than she could process. In a daze, Nora took whatever she could fit into her leather pack, clothes, small soaps, several thin books, and a few luxury items. When she returned, the only ones who remained in that corridor were Theleon and a very familiar elven mage.

There was no chance to ask questions or even engage in conversation. Theleon demanded that they leave immediately, and the Templar guards obliged. With all of the sudden chaos, it had just now dawned on Nora that this meant she would be able to set foot in the outside world. A life of being contained in these walls was about to come to a close, even if only for a short time. Whether she came back to the Circle or not, she would have experienced something that so many dreamed of, including herself. She was about to experience the true beauty of what lied outside the tower, this time not through paintings but through her own eyes.

The doors were opened, and she hesitated. Not out of awe or emotion, but from an overwhelming fear. The fear that there was something wrong with the land, something that spoke words of poison to her in a language she didn't understand. A heaviness lingered in the air, making her even more wary to advance. It was confusing and disorienting, nothing like she had imagined. There was no artistic magnificence or awe-inspiring scenery. There was only an embarrassing amount of uncertainty and regret. She turned back to the tower, but the only home she had ever known had been sealed tightly behind her. Theleon and the other mage had already descended down the stairs, stepping into the boat that would take them across the lake. With her head hung low, Nora followed them.

Her footing was unsteady stepping into the boat, and she would have fallen into the water had Kester not caught her. Ashamed of her clumsiness, Nora sat away from her company, arms folded and knees tightly pressed together. She kept her head down, not even having the slightest desire to look at her surroundings. Here was the chance for freedom she had craved, the supposed wonder of the open air and waters from her fantasies, and she chose to fixate her gaze on a plank of wood. She didn't even lift her head until they reached the shore. Theleon paid a fair amount of coin to the boatman, who thanked him and gave them all some words of caution.

"You all be careful walking out in the open, now. Sky's been growling like a hungry wolf all evening. I've seen it before, and I'd wager that we're about to have a mighty violent storm."

It was no exaggeration. They had barely crossed the River Dane before the storm showed its violent nature. The gales roiled the icy waters, Lake Calenhad sullied with the same murky grey as the dark clouds suffocating the sky. Roars of thunder shook the ground under their feet, the landscape illuminated each time lightning splintered the night sky. Rain came soon after, clearly with the intent to flood the land. The torrential downpour was deafening, eliminating their field of vision past only a couple of yards. It was miserable, frightening, and unlike anything Nora had ever thought to expect. The only thing she wanted now was to go back home.

At the front of the group Theleon raised his arms. He extended them out, and made a wide gesture towards his right. From her position, Nora could barely make out what looked to be little more than a large, black mass on the horizon. Having no choice other than to remain out in the storm, the three of them bolted towards it, and discovered that the indistinguishable hump was actually a small cave. Sighs of relief filled its enclosure, followed by exhausted panting as they tried to catch their breath.

"There's no way we're going to be able to travel any further." Theleon wiped his face with his hand, only managing to smear the droplets of water across his skin. "We have no choice but to wait until the storm passes."

Nora sniffed loudly, her dark brown hair soaked and matted across her forehead, and plastered against her neck. She gathered as much of it as she could, tilting her head to the side and wringing the shoulder-length locks tightly. After a long, winded sigh, she looked outside with an expression of disdain. The rain had created an opaque, grey veil past the cave's mouth, letting little light inside.

A shiver ran down her spine. Her robes had become extraordinarily heavy from the saturation. She wrung out her sleeves, then bent to gather her hem and squeezed as much water out of the fabric as possible. Nora tried to step out of her boots, but they clung to her skin far too tightly. And even if she managed to take them off, she might not be able to get them back on. She would have to just settle for having cold feet. But, for the first time this evening, she had the chance to exhale and calm down. It was a welcomed respite, though a rather cold and damp one.

Nora turned to her peer, who was no doubt selected for candidacy, as well. He didn't seem bothered by the amount of water weighing down his robes. If he were, he was doing an excellent job covering that annoyance with an expression of... Perhaps a different sort of annoyance. His face was cold and sharp, bearing the long, and pointed features of his elven heritage. Nora had rather elongated features, herself, but compared to him she was as square and blunt as a bookshelf.

She bit her bottom lip, and decided to break the silence. "It's different, isn't it? Compared to the spells they teach us."

It took a moment, but he realized that she was speaking directly to him. "What?"

His voice was a little more nasally and boyish than she had expected. It actually eased her, a little. "The storm. The lightning in the sky, it's different compared to what we harness in elemental magic."

"You've never seen lightning before?"

"Of course I have. But not to such an extent." She offered him a tired smile. "It's rather... Striking, isn't it?"

He seemed in no mood to humor her. The arch of his brow, the sarcastic line in which his lips were drawn, the slight narrow of his eyes, even the tight braid that held back every strand of his jet black hair, it was all so typical of him. They never had a word of conversation prior to this, but like most initiates and established mages in the Circle, Nora knew this elf well.

He had already achieved a rare level of respect from his instructors in commanding primal magics, but his greatest accomplishment by far was completing the Harrowing faster than any other mage in Ferelden's Circle ever had. It wasn't simply a new record, it was unheard of. Even weeks after he had completed his trials, the name 'Carrow Surana' echoed throughout the halls. He was at a point that most could only dream of reaching, especially at his young age. There were even rumors that the First Enchanter was going to initiate a petition for him to serve as part of the King's army.

It was no wonder why he would be here. But the doubts over her own selection still bothered her. The question rang in her mind once more... Why had she been recommended, along with such a powerful and promising mage, to leave the Circle and stand among the Grey Wardens?

The chill began to sink past her skin and into her bones, rousing her from her thoughts. She instinctively folded her arms to try to retain what little warmth she had left, but it didn't make any difference. Teeth chattering, she turned to him again. "Uhm... Your expertise is in elemental magic, right? Can you spark a flame so we can make a fire?"

Carrow glanced around the cave. "Out of what? I don't see any tinder." Despite the dark color of his eyes, there was an intimidating intensity to them. Enough to make Nora wonder if she should have really asked him to do something so trivial.

She began to reach for her pack. "I have some perfume. Jenneth Fairfield scarred herself because she had been practicing her fire magic too close to her fragrances." Indeed. The female initiate dormitory had smelled like jasmine and burnt hair for two weeks.

The elf shook his head and snorted derisively. "Unless you're trying to weaponize your toiletries, I wouldn't suggest that."

Nora sighed, her body shivering violently. "Well... I have books, too. Any warmth will do. Maker, I've never been so cold."

The sound of Theleon's armor clattering caught both of their attention. "You will have to endure much harsher conditions in your life, I can promise you that. At any rate, you won't have time to build anything proper. We're leaving the second this storm eases."

A crash of thunder was all it took to make her whimper. Nora stared at the Warden with wide, blue eyes. "What if the rain continues throughout the night? Will we be caught here until the morning?"

He looked positively defeated, standing in a small puddle of rainwater. Even his chainmail couldn't stop some from finding its way inside the armor. "That's what I fear."

Carrow shifted from his position, stepping in front of Theleon. His pulled back his shoulders and pushed out his chest, trying to mirror the bulkier form of the Warden. "You took us out of the Circle to make us Grey Wardens."

"Yes, I did."

The elf raised a brow, and his tone quickly turned aggressive. "Then aren't we supposed to prove our worth? We're standing idle, now, absolutely useless. Let us duel, and show that we are fit for the title." Nora thought a quick, internal prayer for that not to be the process of initiation.

Theleon shook his head. "No, no. It is not that simple."

That was even less promising. Both mages watched him begin to pace slowly through the cave, head bowed down as he thought to himself.

"...It will be unceremonious." Theleon furrowed his brow with a deep groan. "Improper, perhaps, but I see no other way. We have no choice... We'll be lucky if we can reach the battle at all."

Silence filled the air around them.

"...It would appear the Circle hasn't informed you of current events. Very well..." Theleon sighed. "There has been an emergence of Darkspawn... More than usual, as of late. Many of our order are concerned that this may be another Blight. The King's armies have already marched towards the south, and we were prepared to make our stand at Ostagar. But I fear as though we might not make it in time." He shook his head. "Tell me, what do you know of the Darkspawn?"

Nora swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. "...The Chantry taught us about the mages who became the first Darkspawn... As well as the Blight. It's one of the first things you learn, once you reach adolescence... But... I've never seen one in person."

Theleon nodded. "You two are quite lucky, in that regard. There have been many innocents slain at the hands of those fiends. Needless slaughter driven by soulless, barbaric rage... The only desire being to massacre countless lives and corrupt the lands beneath their feet." He stopped pacing and raised his head. "Thus, our order came to be. The sole purpose of the Grey Wardens is to combat the Blight. You two have been found exceptional, and worthy of joining our ranks for this cause."

He reached around to take off the leather pack. Opening the flap, he removed a very ornate, silver chalice with intricate engravings, as well as a corked, brown bottle. Theleon set his belongings on the ground and twisted the cork out of the bottle's mouth. He tilted the neck, and from it flowed a dark, thick fluid.

Carrow peered down his nose at the small stream. "What is that? Liquor?"

The Warden tipped back the bottle once it had been emptied. "This... Is Darkspawn blood. Normally, when the initiation is performed, recruits will go off and harvest the blood themselves. I don't believe we have the time or the means to embark on that traditional hunt.

Nora turned towards him, her curiosity fully peaked. "What is it used for?"

Theleon's tone had become much darker, and much more foreboding of something unpleasant that was sure to come. "W drink it. We take the blood into our beings, and from it we gain knowledge. We gain insight, and a honed sense for the evil in this land. We gain an understanding for the dark forces at work, and from that we are able to strike them down. In short... We gain the ability to defeat the Darkspawn."

"But you... Drink it. You drink the blood." Carrow echoed. Theleon nodded and dropped the empty bottle to the ground. All that he held now was the chalice, filled with one of the most horrific substances this world had ever seen. The elf clenched his fists. "And if we refuse?"

"You will not refuse." Nora's eyes traveled down the Warden's body, and saw that there was a dagger by his hip that she had not noticed before. This was a threat, and Carrow seemed to realize that just as well. He raised his upper lip at Theleon, a test to the sincerity of this suggestion. A tense silence filled the space between them, and after what felt like hours of the two staring each other down, Carrow bowed his head and relaxed his posture. Theleon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, holding out the chalice while he spoke.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry out the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten... And that one day, we shall join you."

He opened his eyes, closing the oath with a call to duty. "Step forward, Carrow Surana."

The elf stared down at the goblet. He looked up, locking eyes with the Warden. "You're serious?"

Theleon reached a hand down and rested his palm on the pommel of his dagger. "Step forward, Carrow Surana."

It was answer enough. Carrow extended his hands, taking the chalice and swirling the blood inside. It was sickeningly viscous, and blacker than the shadows that painted the cracks in the cave walls. His nose wrinkled in disgust, and his throat rumbled with a low growl. In one swift movement, he lifted the rim to his lips and tilted his head back. His face scrunched into a grimace, and a little trail of the blood dribbled down the corner of his mouth. The elf's lips curled back, showing off his clenched teeth, blood leaving a thin film over the enamel and in the spaces between his incisors. It was a gruesome sight, one that left Nora thoroughly nauseated.

A moment passed. Carrow pursed his lips, the blood leaving a foul taste on his tongue, but remained standing. "...I think I thought that was going to be a lot worse than it actually was." He handed the chalice back to Theleon before rolling out his shoulders in a relieved stretch. The Warden stared at the elf intently, not taking his eyes off of him for a second. Carrow began to slowly step back until his shoulders hit the cave's wall, and slid down into a seated position. He tilted his head back, and his cheeks began to pale. The elf barely even blinked before his demeanor changed, and now he looked close to death's door.

"Are you alright?" Nora asked as he rubbed his eyes.

His hand fell limply to his side, and his breathing became more and more labored. Nora crawled over to his side, placing her pointer and middle finger against his neck. His pulse ran wild, his face was an odd shade of yellow, and his skin was clammy to the touch... But it hadn't killed him. Carrow was unconscious, but his heart was beating and he was breathing.

"Nora Amell... Step forward, and meet your fate."

The words shook her to her core. She looked at the goblet with wide eyes, slowly shifting her gaze to the Warden. This was too much... If it had incapacitated someone much stronger than her in mere moments, what was it going to do to her body? She shook her head, pleading for relief with a meek and fearful voice. "I... I don't know if I can."

"You must."

Again, Nora took note of the blade on his hip, and realized that she had no choice in the matter. Shaking, she extended her hands and cupped the chalice. The blood was even more vile up close, and had a deathly stench that permeated throughout the cave. Nora gave one last pathetic look at Theleon, who nodded at her, hardened determination in his eyes. Slowly, she placed her lips on the rim of the goblet and tilted her head back. The blood graced her lips, spreading along her cupid's bow and nearly causing her to vomit from that sensation alone. It was poison, after all, wasn't it? By some act of the Maker, she was eventually able to part her lips and let the thick, viscous toxin run down her throat.

It was abominable. The burning, the rotting smell, the very idea that she was consuming a fluid that came from such horrid creatures nearly caused her to push the chalice away. But she endured for as long as she could, until she could no longer breathe and dropped the empty cup on the stone floor. She began to cough violently, and curled up next to the elf. It set her soul on fire. It scorched her mouth, her throat, her stomach and her heart, her very center of being. Her arms wrapped around her stomach and she began to convulse, body wracked with merciless tremors.

She felt as though the floor had opened up and swallowed her whole, her body now falling helplessly into the abyss. A terrible noise crept into her ears. It was the sound of something inhuman, screeching and bleating in an atrocious harmony. It became louder and louder, more voices joining in to sing a ballad of destruction, a song of endless agony for all life. This, she knew, was certain, though she could not recognize the tongue that rejoiced in it. It was without meaning. It only was.

And then, at once, nothing. The voices ceased, and her ground was steady. Her mind and her body felt numb, unresponsive to even the most simple commands. Though, now, she could hear a different voice. A familiar one. It spoke in a similar language to the song from before... But now she could understand it.

Theleon's voice rang softly in her ears. "...Are you awake, Nora?"

Her lips trembled, her own voice reduced to a meager breath. "...I... Can't move..."

"That's alright. It will pass. The important thing is that you're alive." His sigh of relief was followed by a tired chuckle. "You're an over-achiever, aren't you? Drinking all the blood there was... You only needed a sip."

Nora could have slapped him, but resolved to only mentally call him the filthiest of profanities.

"Carrow is still unconscious, but you both survived the Joining... Excellent. Allow me to prepare something for you. A reminder of the sacrifice you made on this day."

She still felt ill, but the burning was gone. She remembered once when she was a child she lost consciousness. Some of her friends were kicking around a heavy ball, and the leather sphere began to build more and more momentum. Nora was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and after a strong kick by one of the older boys the ball flew past the target goal and knocked her out cold. When she woke, she was laying in a recovery bed, in a similar state to how she was, now. Dazed, exhausted, in a tremendous amount of pain but alive. It was funny, how the...

Her eyes shot wide open. The noise was back. The song, the ballad she had heard in that nightmare... It was slower. Shorter, as if it were being played in small, whispered bursts. It was present, but only because it had to be, melody skittering along the walls and ceiling. It was here.

A disorienting shriek rang out, followed by the screams of the Warden. A garbled cry filled Nora's ears, as did a far more terrible sound. It twisted and it tore, like someone were ripping flesh off the bone. Nora remained paralyzed, watching unidentifiable shadows dance wickedly on the wall. A splatter of blood shot onto the stone, dark in color but notably red. One of the figures rose, exceptionally tall and inhumanely thin. It turned towards her, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the brown skin of something that could only be describe as a walking nightmare. She scrunched her eyes shut, and the only thing she could hear now was her heart racing in her chest.

A piercing bolt of elemental lightning shot by her head, lighting up the room and hitting the creature directly in its jaw. It flew into the other side of the cave with an ear-splitting scream, the crunch of shattered bones audible and unmistakable. Nora slowly opened her eyes, using every bit of her strength to turn her head and look behind her. Carrow rested against the wall, and she saw that the mage had risen to his feet. His eyes were sunken and his skin was still a strange color, but he was standing firm as his fingers crackled with electrical energies.

The creature clawed at the ground, unable to do much more than flail its arms and legs like an incapacitated roach. Carrow limped over to the corpse of the Grey Warden. He picked up his sword, dragging it behind him as he hobbled over to the writhing monster. Placing both hands on the hilt, he raised the blade and drove it into the back of the fiend. The unmistakable black blood of this Darkspawn pooled under its body, and with one last, shrill cry it fell limp against the floor.

Carrow turned to her, body shuddering with heavy breaths. "...Can you move?"

That was a good question. She wriggled her fingers, and then her toes, relieved at feeling all her digits move with ease. Knees wobbling and head still spinning, she somehow managed to pull herself up in a seated position. Her palm went to her forehead, trying to steady her vision. It took a bit before the dizziness began to subside, allowing her to focus her sight on the bled-out body of their guide.

"Theleon?" Nora gasped, covering her mouth with one of her hands at the terrifying display. She knew it was his blood on the wall, but the extent of that fatal wound was far deeper than she realized. A gaping hole had been cut into his neck, and it was clear that something had reached in to tear out the muscles and tendons. The Warden's lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling and his mouth was wide open as it tried to gasp for a useless breath of air. The expression on his face perfectly and horrifically documented his last moments of fear. "...He's dead. He was a Grey Warden, and that... It killed him."

Carrow looked down at his shoes, some of the black blood having splattered onto the leather. "He wasn't a very good Warden, then, was he?"

Nora glared at him, the former awe she held for his prowess having now run completely dry. But there it was. The corpse of the Darkspawn, mottled and mangled from corruption, dead on the floor as a slimy drool leeched from its maw. "...You killed it with one shot. How... How did you do that?"

Carrow's face was finally starting to revert back to its usual, healthier color. "I didn't kill it with one shot, I killed it with the sword. Either way, it doesn't matter. It's dead, now." He looked around with a curious expression, until his eyes finally landed on a missing portion in the rock above them. "...It came down through the ceiling. Look." He pointed upwards, guiding their line of sight. Even in the darkness, a clear hole could be seen in the top of the cave.

Nora began to pick herself up off the floor, finding a new sense of urgency. "What do we do now?"

Carrow took a few, slow steps around the cave before noticing the Warden's pack on the stone floor. The elf bent a knee and began to dig through every little compartment for any sort of idea on how to answer that question. Military rations and armor polish were thrown carelessly on the floor, neither of those things being of any use, now. He finally pulled out an unsullied envelope, found at the bottom of the bag. It had been opened once, the wax seal on the back slightly broken but still legible. Carefully, he peeled it from the paper and squinted his eyes to examine it closely.

It was surprisingly intricate for its size, an indention of a gryphon with raised claws and flared wings sitting in the center of the red wax. Turning it over a couple of times, Carrow slipped it into his chest pocket and opened the envelope. It took him a bit of time to make out the written word in the dimly lit cave, but he eventually came to a conclusion. "This is a letter of summons."

Nora staggered over to the elf, leaning down to try and read it for herself. Her lips moved as she read the script, but she only spoke the last word. "...Ostagar. Theleon said that's where the battle was taking place."

Carrow rose to his feet and walked to the corpse of the Warden. He placed a boot on the man's chest before reaching down to take his dagger. With one more surveying look, the elf picked up his own belongings and began to walk outside. Nora watched him, then looked to the cave's mouth. The rain was but a light drizzle, now, and the sky was pitch black.

"Wait." The shakiness had found its way back to her voice, her eyes having once again found the body of the Warden. "...We can't just leave him like this. We have to bury him, or give him a pyre..."

Carrow turned, his eyes slightly narrowed as he looked his peer up and down. "You can stay and do whatever you want."

The brevity of that response shocked Nora at first, until she realized the hole the Darkspawn crawled out of was directly over her head. Nora quickly began to gather her things, watching the elf step out into the night. No matter how many times she turned away, however, her gaze kept drifting to Theleon's body, his face white and his lips blue, laying in a pool of his own blood. "...I'm so sorry." She mumbled, trying to think of something she could do, anything she could offer to honor his passing.

Nora paused, and opened her pack. She took out the heftiest of tomes and tore the last page from it. Quickly but carefully, she began to fold down the edges. Her fingers nimbly worked the sheet of white parchment, giving it shape and form with several more bends and creases. It was a hobby she indulged in when she needed a break from her studies, something that could keep her close to her books but still refresh her mind. She gave it one last creasing and then held a white, paper flower bloom in her hand. It was shaped like a lily, some of the only flowers that were brought to the Circle, used in ceremony for the mages who passed away.

Nora gently placed the paper flower on his chest and spread her hand across it. Focusing intently, she lifted her fingers and the little paper bloom began to float without her touch. By the will of her spirit, and the specialty of her magic, it had become suspended about an inch above his chest. "Maker take you... If you believed in such a thing." She tore herself away from his side, running to the cave's front.

She was absolutely exhausted. A little hiccup burst from her throat, followed by a short sob. Nora buried her face in her hands, doing her best to calm her nerves but failing rather spectacularly. Her fingers wove into her tangled hair, gripping her head as she shook it violently. Forget what she expected, this was not what she wanted. She had been taken away from her home, dragged through the assaulting storm, and forced to ingest the blood of monsters. For all she knew, she could have been poisoned with only three days to live. Now, without guide or reason, she was left stranded outside of some cave in the middle of some nameless valley. It made her shake and sob, and all she wanted to do was scream.

But that was her limit. She had expended all of her energy in that last fit. That was all she had. Nora slumped her shoulders and ran her hands down her face. Resigned, she knew what she had to do. She would have to go back to the Circle, and tell the First Enchanter what happened. Perhaps one of the Senior Enchanters would have the means to heal her. She would have to return to her room, take a lukewarm bath, and go to bed right away. And she would not leave the tower until she was old and her body withered. That was the fate of most mages. At least now she would have a cautionary tale to tell the new apprentices. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

She didn't quite register the sight in front of her, at first. She did notice that the storm had now completely passed, and the sky was clear. The clouds had broken, and that had made way for the moon and stars to cast down a surreal light over the land. She paused, taken aback at the sheer amount of those little lights in the sky, glittering like gems and blessing her with their brilliance. Her eyes traveled downward, looking across the land. The details were clear, at last, from every blade of grass to the wind blowing gentle ripples across the water. It was a scene that only the divine could create.

This was the beauty she sought, breathtaking in every sense of the word.

Nora snapped out of her trance, and under the night's magnificent, silver glow she could see the elf at the bottom of the hill. She watched him look to his left and then to his right. He looked lost. Despite his callous attitude, he had gone through the same ordeal as she had. He had been taxed to his limits just the same, and that thought was comforting. Neither of them had to go through this alone.

She had to reach him. He was still in ear-shot, and catching his attention was either now or never. Nora inhaled deeply, and called to him across the field with a newfound energy. "Carrow! Wait!" She sprinted down the hill, the slippery grass testing her balance with each step.

Carrow turned to her, a bit confused, holding his tongue until she reached him. "What?"

Nora paused to catch her breath. "...Where are you going? To Ostagar?"

"No. I'm going back to the Circle."

She brushed back her hair, very aware that she looked like an absolute mess. "Really? Why? Do you want to go back?"

Carrow shrugged. "That doesn't matter. There's nowhere else to go."

Nora shook her head. "Yes, there is. We're Grey Wardens, now, remember? Our place is no longer in that tower. It's out here."

A cool breeze ruffled the hems of their robes, chilling them thoroughly. Carrow looked behind him, in the direction they had traveled, the tower's light barely visible at their distance. "...Do you have a better idea?"

"I might." Nora stepped next to him, turning around and pointing to several tall, marble arches on the horizon. "See that? That's the Imperial Highway. If we reach it and travel south, we'll eventually hit a crossroads. Next to that intersection is a small town called Lothering. I think we should head there."

A brief moment of pause passed between the two before he made a little, disgruntled noise. "I don't know. Lothering doesn't even sound like the name of a town."

Nora rolled her eyes, but kept her patience. "...I promise it is. It's a trade town, it sees a lot of people from all over the land. Someone might be able to help us, or there might be word on the situation towards the south, about the Grey Wardens. Also, there will be food... Warm food. And warm beds." Just the thought was enough to make her flush with delight.

The elf nodded slowly. Perhaps his judgement was hindered by the freezing cold, but nevertheless he found himself entertaining the idea. "Are you sure you'll be able to find the way?"

"I think so, yes. I've seen plenty of maps, and we have the sky to guide us, as well."

He looked up, and then gave her one last nod. "Very well. Let's go."

Nora smiled warmly at Carrow, every line and detail of his face illuminated by the moonlight. His gaze was kept steady on the horizon, head held high but lips sealed from the moment they began walking. No one spoke a word at first, and it would have seemed as though their trek to Lothering would be a silent one. Ah, well. She did take comfort in knowing the company she traveled with was incredibly capable, in both wit and combat. And, by elven and even human standards, intriguingly attractive. A little, girlish giggle found its way out of her lips, surprising the both of them.

"What?"

Nora waved a dismissive hand, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, nothing. Only that... How do you not know about Lothering? You've had to have had a history class about it while you were still an apprentice. It was the battleground during the second Orlesian invasion. King Vanedrin Theirin was slain on those grounds. I know you had to learn it, it was on the junior test. It was an entire chapter of our textbooks, at that." The silence resumed once more. It had been a long, strenuous day with a terribly sobering end. Perhaps a little quiet and thought would do them both some good.

Normally, at this time of night, Nora would get to dream about a life outside of the tower. A life filled with running through the fields and rolling in the flowers. Tonight, she lived that dream. Whatever might come in the future, she decided to fully indulge the moment now, gazing across the marble landscape and losing herself in the constellations. And in her eyes, it was majestic.

* * *

 **A/N** : _This will probably be the only author's note I'll have in the story._

 _This is only an Origins universe. There might be some small modifications, like the recruitment of someone other than Duncan here, but nothing that would drastically change the source material. It is mostly a re-telling._

 _All seven heroes will be present, and all with custom names, but there won't be any OCs. None that are integral to the story, that is._

 _Romances are important, and are planned to be included._

 _This was a long chapter. Though, I'd like each one to average about 5k words._

 _With all that said, thank you for reading. See you soon._


	2. Chapter 2

It was a long trip to Lothering.

They may have been blessed with a clear sky, but the physical and emotional strain from their indoctrination had them dragging their feet down the Imperial Highway. Nora could feel her skin blister in her cold, wet shoes, and she regretted not following Carrow's decision to peel them off and go barefoot. A few stops were made to rest and relax, but there was no sleep to be had. There was a strange sort of energy in them, an odd endurance that demanded they be pushed to their limits. Push on they did, but by the time the sun's rays beamed over the horizon, their pace had slowed to little more than a crawl.

Nora slapped her cheeks a few times, trying to rouse herself, but it didn't do much of anything. Her damp clothes and the chilling winds had already numbed most of her skin. She sighed and did her best to rub the fatigue out of her bloodshot eyes. Peering out over the land, she could finally see fields of farm crops and several livestock animals grazing. There weren't many houses, but the ones that she saw all looked to have the same materials in their construction. Even the windmills were a little more clustered and uniform. Nora turned back to the road, and stopped once she realized it wasn't just the highway anymore. Another road ran perpendicular to what they were on, spanning east to west. She turned to Carrow and smiled. "It's the crossing... We're almost there."

She couldn't, and wouldn't, deny that the highway was beautiful. It was grand and spectacular, and everything else, just like in her books. But the closer they neared Lothering, the more wreckage they encountered. Parts of the marble arches had completely collapsed, and there were sections of the bridge that just didn't exist. A loud, pained scream came from behind her. Nora whirled around, seeing the elf try to balance himself on one foot while trying to pick a sharp piece of stone out of the other. After many, many obscenities and lots of hopping around, he managed, throwing it down to shatter on impact.

"...Just a little longer." Nora tried to encourage him. This road had to still be in use, right? Nora could have sworn the account she read was current. It was a shame to let one of Thedas' wonders fall victim to the tests of time, but perhaps restoration and upkeep had to take a backseat when that time was filled with war.

And the possibility of a Blight. Just the thought of what one Darkspawn could do sickened her. Theleon's corpse was still in that cave, no doubt bled-out and beginning to rot. It wasn't something she wanted to think about, but the scene had been burned into the back of her mind. The fate of the Grey Warden, what she and Carrow had endured, and those awful, awful sounds...

The screeches and screams were horrid, but the song that accompanied her descent could have driven her to insanity. It wriggled its way into her ear each time she tried to put it out of her mind, rising and falling, demanding that she listen. Still, she couldn't quite recall the more minute details of what she first heard. Nora could still remember the voices and the chorus, but the more time had passed, the more she became displaced from its intricacies. The rhythms slowed and the harmonizing growls and shrieks changed their tune. Every time it echoed in her mind, something was different.

Out of the full orchestra of madness, only a couple of instruments played. Crying out maliciously, their horns raised to the sky. Laughing. Creeping up, and ready to strike.

Nora stopped dead in her tracks, raising her head as the melody got louder, and louder. It was here. Her hand shot out, and she grabbed onto Carrow's shoulder. He tried to shrug her off, but her palm was like a vice, holding onto him for fear of falling once more. "What are you doing?" He tore away with a violent gesture. Nora stared straight ahead, raising only one finger to point towards the distance. The elf followed her line of direction, putting up a hand to block the sun out of his eyes.

They could both hear manic shouting, and quietly rushed down the road to assess the situation. Neither of them expected to see two dwarves cowering at the edge of the road, forced back by a small group of Darkspawn. "Away with you, foul creatures!" One had the bravery, or maybe reached a certain point of desperation, to stand up to these fiends, but the only weapon he swung about was a splintered piece of wood. "Get back, Sandal, don't let them touch you! Someone help us!"

Carrow placed a finger to his lips and crouched behind a collection of rubble. To Nora's disbelief, he clearly had no intention to fight this mob. She bit her lower lip, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. She couldn't let this happen, not to people who didn't even have the means to defend themselves. It wasn't right. "Hey!" Nora cried out, her voice hoarse and piercing.

Her call for attention worked. The Darkspawn that crowded the highway turned to them. "You little idiot." Carrow's voice was venomous. The elf had already brandished his dagger to defend himself, the metal blade slightly foggy and chilled from his magics. There were five, perhaps six of them, though they weren't like the one that ambushed them in the cave. These were armored, and carrying barbaric weapons. They were clearly soldiers.

Nora's outburst especially caught the attention of one that was suited in much better armor than its lessers. Its gaze found hers, the vile, milky whites bearing into her soul, and she swore she could hear it laugh. Her heart raced as the mob of Darkspawn rushed towards them, but she held steady. She wasn't going to lie down helplessly like before. She might not have had the same strengths as her peer, nor the same tenacity, but as soon as that armored monstrosity set its eyes on her, her survival and magical instincts kicked in.

Nora clenched her fists, curling her fingers and focusing intently on the Darkspawn. With every ounce of concentration she had, she set her focus on the spaces around them. The little pockets began to curdle, seething with the taint. She pushed them to the forefront of her mind, disregarding her other senses, and soon she could see those bits of energies form shapes and move in patterns.

Her eyes were now primed to pick up her own energies, unstable but strong. She willed for her spirit to be greater than the foes she faced, for her mental fortitude to overcome their chaotic minds, and it was done. A burst of energy erupted from her core, seeking to disrupt her targets. At once, the Darkspawn staggered. The smaller ones grabbed their heads with mutated claws, and they halted. They bumbled about, stumbling over their own feet and trying to shake off the pulse that wracked them to their very foundation. Nora looked down at Carrow and spat. "Now would be a good time to do something!"

Carrow rolled his eyes and let out a low, frustrated groan. His hand was forced, it seemed. The elf ran out from his cover towards the monsters, and a blinding display of lightning burst from his palms. The Darkspawn began to convulse, air permeated with the stench of cooked flesh, and one by one they began to drop to the floor. His palms began to sting, and his muscles spasmed slightly, signaling his limit. The elven mage lowered his hands from the onslaught, seeing that only one remained standing. Carrow gripped the dagger tightly, reared back, and thrust it into the vanguard's left eye. It garbled out a pained howl, and collapsed to the ground.

And just like that, it was over.

Nora sighed, brushing back her hair and pausing for a moment to rest. It took more out of her than it should have. She could recite by memory spiritual manipulations that were tiers above what she just performed, but she wasn't familiar with how her body would react to it. Her limits were still being discovered. The possible repercussions weren't something she wanted to dwell on, and she turned her eyes to the stone walkway, pausing at a very gruesome sight.

She had almost missed it among the chaos. A young woman laid dead on the stone, wearing the same robes as the mages of the Circle. Nora didn't recognize her personally, but the crests and style of the garment were unmistakable. She bent down, and picked up her hand, trying to see if this was another Darkspawn casualty. This woman's body hadn't grown cold, yet... It probably hadn't even been an hour since she was killed. Her hands and her wrists were riddled with pock marks and scars. Little bumps had formed around the main concentration of veins, and her fingertips were mottled and sponge-like. They were far paler than her face and neck, as though the blood had been drained out of them. Yet, the warmth that lingered...

She let go, and small droplets of warm, thick blood smeared onto her hand. Nora wiped them away quickly, sighing and shaking her head. It was... Disappointing to see someone like this in such a state.

Nora removed herself from those thoughts and remembered the reason she had intervened to begin with. She rose quickly and ran to the dwarves, both of them still in shock and checking to make sure all of their limbs were still intact.

"Are you alright? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

A pair of bewildered, light brown eyes stared back at her. "No, no, we're alright..." But clearly rattled. He ran a hand down the back of his head, and let out a deep exhale. "Mighty timely arrival you had, there..." The other dwarf, considerably younger, ran to him. He kept his head down and bowed, wrapping his arms around the man's waist and hugging on tightly. "Easy, son, it's alright. Those beasties are dead and gone... Nothing to be scared of, now."

A part of her warmed considerably at seeing the two of them, and she smiled. Nora looked over at Carrow, who had no interest in this, of course. He had already started to walk down to the farmland. Part of her wondered if she should just let him go off, but with the possible dangers of more Darkspawn on the road, she thought it best to catch up. "...I'm glad you're both alright. Take care."

"Ah, wait just a moment." The older of the two called out to her. "I don't know you, stranger, but you saved me and my boy's life. I wouldn't feel right if you went unrewarded for your bravery."

A reward? He walked around the wreckage of his cart, and sifted through some of the more secure chests tied up in the back. When he came back around, he was holding a long, satin-wrapped staff. "You're a mage, aren't you? I don't know much about spell casting or the arcane, but every time I bring my cart up north this staff always gets plenty of attention... By collectors and lyrium users alike. Yes, plenty of attention, but no coin. I've no doubt it will be far more valuable to you than it could ever be to me."

He pulled back the fabric, and Nora's eyes went wide. Someone had taken great artistic liberties with this stave. It was a cherry-colored wood, soft and smooth, with engravings of roses carved into the tops and bottoms. Nora took up his offering gingerly. It was far lighter than she had anticipated, and easy to handle. The middle was sanded down further, silky to the touch, yet secure enough for someone to hold onto without it slipping from their fingers. She turned it over, checking it from all angles. There didn't seem to be any sort of embedded magics or enchantments attached to it, but perhaps that could be changed. It was no simple branch, that was certain. "It's beautiful... But it looks so expensive. Are you sure you just want to give it to me?"

He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, chuckling. "I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let a lovely lady such as yourself walk the lands unarmed... And during a Blight, no less. Please, take it as a sign of my gratitude. I'd offer you some gold, but... I've a bit of a wagon to repair, after all." Indeed. There was barely anything left intact. The dwarf shook his head, disappointed but happy to still have a head at all. "...Well. The name is Bodahn Feddic, should our paths ever cross again. And if they do, believe me, I'll remember what you've done for us."

Her face lit up. "I love it. Thank you very, very much."

"You're welcome. Say goodbye to the nice lady, my boy."

Bright, blue eyes as clear as spring waters searched her features. She'd never seen eyes that were so piercing. The dwarven boy gave her a shy, childish smile. "Goodbye, nice lady."

Nora nodded, most of her attention still on the staff. She began to descend the walkway, and looked down at Carrow. He had his arms crossed and a scowl on his lips. ...As she had come to expect, honestly. "He wanted to give us a reward... Do you want to look at it?" She hated the thought of him snatching that stave from her. He had done most of the dirty work, however, so she supposed it was only fair for him to at least see it.

He didn't seem to be interested. He just stared at her, before taking in a slight breath. "Are you clairvoyant?"

Nora blinked a couple of times. "...What?"

"Did you not hear me?"

What a remarkably inane question. Although, to be fair... And Nora was finding herself to be fair quite often, as of late... She wasn't as well-known as he was. She tried to answer calmly, but her irritation was clear in her tone. "No... My primary studies are in the spirit. It's not synonymous with the stereotype of clairvoyance."

Carrow shook his head. "So, then, what? Can you read minds?"

Was this a joke? Surely he had to be feigning ignorance. But the longer she stared at him, the more that look on his face told her that he was, indeed, very serious. She folded her arms. "...No. No, I do not have the ability to read minds. Have you had no lessons in energy outside of primal manipulation?"

He shrugged, and she could see his suspicion. "I understand the things I can see. And you did something that I couldn't see... Something to their heads. Their brains. What else can you do, then?"

This was just silly. What he was suggesting... Rooting into someone's thoughts... That was more akin to demons and damnable blood magic than anything the Circle had taught. Never mind that, the magic Carrow specialized in involved the same basic principle as hers. Energy. The schools of spirit and primal magic were meant to balance each other out, and even if a mage only pursued one of them it was a requirement to have some understanding of its opposite. They were two sides to the same coin... How could he ask such ridiculous questions?

Nora could expect such a thing from some of the Chantry initiates, or perhaps a very young child, but she didn't think another mage would ever entertain the idea. She stared him down, firm to her words. "I don't bend spoons, or read minds, or anything like that. That's not what studying the spirit is about."

Carrow arched one of his thin, pointed eyebrows. "Is that so?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by a rumbling in her stomach. Nora shook her head and turned away from him. "Let's just get something to eat." Another growl, this one louder and longer, came from Carrow's midsection.

At least they were on the same page this time.

There was a strange heaviness hanging over the city. Nora had felt it before, when apprentices begged for their Harrowings, and when elderly mages who never spent a moment outside the tower were coming to the end of their days. It was desperation, and it ran thick all throughout Lothering. Beggars didn't even bother to hold out their palms, caretakers turned their backs towards near-death civilians to treat wounded soldiers, men and women stared off into the distance, doing nothing to comfort their sobbing children. The burdens they had to bear weighed so heavily on their backs that their heads were forced down, eyes stuck on the ground beneath their feet. Was this because of the war?

Nora and Carrow pushed past the languid civilians, following a warm, savory smell and the promise of food. The crowd was thin around these parts, maybe no one was hungry or maybe no one had the money. Nora reached down and squeezed a small satchel on her hip, hidden under her robes, thankful for the silvers it held. She tilted her head up, reading the engraved sign over the door. "Dane's Refuge... I smell roast." Nora smiled, feeling her mouth salivate. She hurried ahead, eager for a proper meal.

...Nora had heard about days like these. Days where one bad thing happens right after the other, over and over until the person affected goes crazy. She had hardships, sure, but she never had an entire day where she was miserable. Today might have been that day. It started with torrential downpour, and led up to this moment, with her arms and legs sprawled out, body splayed awkwardly in the grass. She couldn't figure out how it had happened. One minute she was happily walking into the tavern, and the next she was flat on her ass, a throbbing pain shooting through her skull.

The ringing in her ears subsided, and she heard gasping from all angles. She could only imagine the state she was in. At least she was conscious... Somewhat.

"What did you do? Did you hit her?"

"No! No, I didn't even see her!"

"Clumsy oaf."

Her eyes fluttered open and she was met with a searing pain. Nora hissed, squeezing them shut again. There were so many voices, so many different qualities to each of them. One stood out a bit more, deep and gentle, and seemed closer to her than any of the others.

"Are you alright?"

"...Alright..." Nora mirrored back.

There was a pause. "What happened?"

"I didn't do anything, I just walked out the door! It was an accident!"

"Stop yelling. We don't want to cause any more upset than we already have." A strong pair of hands gently scooped her up by her shoulders, and sat her upright. "I've got you, miss. It's alright." Slowly, she was guided to her feet and a firm arm linked with hers.

She tried to open her eyes again. Her vision was still fuzzy, but she could feel herself being brought inside sat down somewhere warm. She could make out the borders of what were most likely stairs, tables, chairs, and many different people. As it came into focus, she realized all of the attention was on her. Nora could only imagine the state she was in to garner those shocked expressions.

The man who brought her inside was tall, and armored with finely crafted mail. Were she to guess, she might have pinned him as a member of the guard. Thick, rich brown locks were groomed neatly over his head, and a full face of stubble framed his square jaw. He was pale of skin, which made his the deep browns of his eyebrows and irises stand out all the more. "Something hot to drink, please?" He called out. "Can you hear me?" She nodded and he smiled, a deep relief found in his eyes. "Good. Please, go easy. You took a hard hit."

A frown stretched across her face, and instead of the savory smells of meat and vegetables, the only thing she could pick up was a strong, metallic scent. "Am I bleeding?"

He took a moment to examine her. "No, it doesn't look like it. It's probably going to hurt for a while, though." She thought as much. A young, disheveled woman hurried to them, setting down a ceramic mug. "Is this alright?"

Nora could smell that, at least. Coffee. Finally, something that was warm. "Oh, yes, that's perfect." She happily snatched it from the table and held it close to her chest. Her fingers started to flush with color. "Thank you... I'm Nora."

"Gerald." He nodded curtly. There was a bit of an aristocratic demeanor to his gesture. "I'm glad you're alright, Nora. Do you need me to get you anything else?"

A full plate of food came to mind, but Nora thought better than to push his generosity. She took a long, slow drink from the cup, relishing in the bitter heat. The steam actually helped the soothe the pain in her nose, as well. "...No, that's alright. But I have to ask... Were you the one who ran into me?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Thankfully not."

She looked over his shoulder and spotted the only other pair of eyes on her. A young man was clad in similar armor from head to toe, wearing a mortified expression as well as a sword and shield. Apart from suspicious, it all looked very, very solid. Solid enough to leave her in considerable pain if she was to come in contact with it. "Was it him?"

"You've your wits about you, it seems." Gerald turned to look over his shoulder. He sighed heavily and motioned the culprit over. "I'd ask you to please forgive him. We were coming out of the inn, and the dolt obviously wasn't paying attention... And you obviously got the front of the shield."

Fortunately she didn't get the metal trim. Nora watched him slowly walk over with his head bowed in preparation for a scolding, like a puppy that got caught chewing its masters slippers. He cleared his throat and shuffled a bit before finally getting the courage to look at her with his big, brown eyes. "I am so sorry. I didn't see you, and there had just been a commotion inside, everyone got riled up... I didn't mean to do it, I swear."

He may have been a dolt, but he sounded sincere. Nora leaned back in her seat and ran her index finger up and down the mug's handle. "I believe you. I guess it could have been worse..."

Relief at her lack of fury washed over his face, and he laughed nervously. "Right! It could have gone through your skull, or cut your nose off, after all." That relief soon turned to horror as he realized just how inappropriate those words were. "...You know, I have been told on many occasions that I was born with two left feet... I'll think I'll go ahead and shove one of them down my throat. Fix both of my problems."

She didn't mind his humor. After such a serious night, she almost welcomed it. Her lips spread into a big smile with, thankfully, all of her teeth intact. "I'm Nora."

"Alistair." He winced at her bruising, a large, purple mark spreading over her forehead. "Maker... I just feel terrible. I suppose I should, though."

Nora shook her head. "Like I said... It could have been worse. But let's not dwell on that, alright?"

"Agreed." Gerald rose from his chair. "I'll be back in just a moment. We've an alchemist traveling with us, and I'd like to see if he has something that can help you. If you need anything at all, Nora, Alistair will happily get it for you." He gave the young man a stern look and went on his way. By now all of the patrons and those loitering had all gone back to their own business, leaving just the two of them to their conversation.

Alistair still didn't feel comfortable sitting next to her, given the circumstances of his presence. Not to mention that his gaze kept getting drawn towards the massive bruise between her eyes. He shifted about awkwardly for a moment before trying to initiate some sort of dialogue. "So... What brings you to Lothering?"

Absolutely riveting. But it was a reasonable question. Nora folded one of her legs over the other and leaned back in her seat. "Well... There's a war down in Ostagar, isn't there?"

Immediately she knew whatever answer he had could not be pleasant. He broke their eye contact, turning his head down to the floor and closing his eyes. With a heavy sigh and a somber look, he answered her. "There was a war. It was lost. I was there... A few of us were, actually." He drew his lips into a tight line. "It... Was a massacre."

Nora could feel her stomach drop. She spoke quietly. "...I'm sorry."

Alistair ran a hand down his face, trying to wipe away the mist in his eyes and the tremble in his lips. The wound was still fresh. "Thank you. We lost a lot of good men... And women, of course. The Blight spares no one."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "We were on our way there... I guess we got lucky."

"Maybe." He sighed again, trying to exhale some of the weight that pressed down on his chest. "You say 'we'... Are you traveling with someone?"

Now that she wasn't seeing stars, Nora noticed that Carrow had gotten awfully quiet. She straightened up in her chair, and looked around. It wasn't just a matter of silence, the elven mage was nowhere to be seen. He seemed to have disappeared entirely. Maybe he tried to get a bed for the night, or something to eat. Nora actually didn't mind the lack of his presence, to be honest. It was, after all, refreshing to be away from someone so confrontational and violent. Assuming that Alistair's 'shielding' truly was unintentional.

She tried to assume the best in everyone.

* * *

The only place where the refugees didn't crowd was a small alley behind the tavern. Carrow had stepped over many tent spikes and frightened children to get to that little place of solitude. He didn't like being out in the open, and especially didn't want to be stared at by hungry eyes while he ate. His hand was tucked under his robe's top coat, holding a roasted beef sandwich. He snatched it off of one of the fatter patron's plates, the entire attention of the tavern having been gripped by Nora's ordeal. He squeezed the bread tightly, flattening it down, as his tongue ran over his bottom lip.

It was low quality food, but that didn't matter. These were no doubt the scraps from what was left over after the carcass had been stripped... But this dry, coagulated, hard-crusted sandwich was exactly what his body craved. An animalistic hunger wracked his body, and with a wide, open mouth he began to stuff as much of this flavorless fuel into it as possible. A low growl came from the back of his throat. This wouldn't satiate him, but it was a start to quenching the burning pit in his stomach. He was so taken with his table scraps, he almost didn't notice the human man coming towards him.

Carrow stepped back, his eyes on the unwanted company. With a sneer and an angered expression, he actually managed to make this armored man stop in his tracks. "...Excuse me. Can I have a moment to speak with you?"

He narrowed his eyes, a strip of meat hanging down from his teeth. What little patience he had, he didn't want to waste on someone like this. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and the grass underneath his feet began to crystallize. A chill from his body seeped through the air around them, and small bits of frost flaked off of his robes. "Back off."

The human walked towards him, though tentatively. "I mean you no harm, I just want to have a word with you." He lowered his voice. "Don't do anything stupid. There are Templars everywhere, and they're under massive stress. All it takes is one person screaming about an apostate and you'll be carted off."

The cold subsided, and Carrow resumed silently stuffing his face. Well, not entirely. Small growls and quick gasps for breath filled the space between him and the desecrated sandwich. He spread his elbows out, defending that food as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.

"Yes, well... Let me introduce myself. You may call me Gerald, if you like. I was hoping to ask you about your travel mate." He watched the elf with disgusted amusement. "...And, ah, yourself."

Carrow pulled his head back, ripping through a stubborn piece of gristle. "I'm not with her. I was just behind her."

That was hardly convincing. Gerald pressed further. "What's your story? Have you fled the Circle?"

"Hardly. We were taken from it."

"By the Chantry?"

"A Grey Warden."

There was a long pause of silence between them. Gerald tilted his head, both brows high on his forehead. "A Grey Warden? I find that a little hard to believe."

"I don't care what you believe." Without missing a beat, Carrow reached into his chest pocket, showing him the wax seal from the summons. "I want that back when you're done with it."

Gerald took it, and flipped over it several times. Indeed, it bore the same gryphon imprint as the crest for the order. He nodded slowly. "I see. So have you two been initiated, already? Where's the senior Warden?"

He handed the seal back to Carrow, who pocketed it again. He took a moment to chew, that last bite still somewhat caught in the back of his throat. "I don't know if he was a senior or not, but right now he's dead."

Gerald paced around to the elf's opposite side. "I'm... Sorry. What were you planning to do?"

Carrow swallowed audibly and shrugged. "I don't know."

Again, hardly convincing. "Did you undergo your Joining before he passed?"

"Both of us drank the blood. Why don't you go bother her, instead?"

"Then you're both Grey Wardens. So am I." That actually got Carrow's attention. He turned to Gerald, now only left with the crust of his meal. "It's not just me. The man who accidentally hurt your friend has been a member of the order for a while, now. And we have an elf who went through the Joining, too. We were under the assumption that no Grey Wardens in Ferelden remained... Obviously, we were mistaken."

Carrow stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth, his cheeks swollen from the volume of bread. He folded his arms and turned away from Gerald, a crease of thought in his brow. There was still a resistance to him, something that was making him difficult to reach. Gerald stepped in front of him, closing another inch of distance between the two. He wouldn't be shut out so easily.

"Whatever you had planned, let me tell you this. Going off on your own is either going to amount to nothing or turn into pointless suicide. Do you even know what's going on in the south? It's been overrun by the Darkspawn. The King's armies were defeated in a matter of hours."

After a decent bout of chewing, the elf managed to get down the stale remains. His entire demeanor had changed from icy defiance to, surprisingly, worry. "...You're talking like you're leading up to something. So get to it."

"The Grey Wardens are the only ones who can end the Blight. Without us all coming together to fight the Darkspawn, Ferelden will be lost." He placed a hand on Carrow's shoulder. "You were without guidance. I understand your apprehension, and your confusion. And I know you're tired."

He shrugged it off. "So, what? You want me to go with you, then?"

Gerald nodded. Both of you, yes. But first... I want you to tell me about your recruitment."

"Why?"

The man placed a thoughtful hand on his chin, beginning to pace once more. "You were recruited during a Blight. That might mean that not all of the Wardens were at Ostagar. Perhaps... More than just one went out to initiate new members. There may be more like you, spread across Ferelden." It wasn't a guarantee, but it was enough for him to hope. He moved both hands behind his back, and looked up at the sky. The sun had risen, though the morning was still young. "We're going to need everyone we can get."

The shriek of a startled child snapped them both out of their thoughts. Gerald gave him a final, urgent look, and started to walk out of the alley.

A few minutes later, with much apprehension, Carrow followed.


End file.
